The first week of March, Ole flew up to Orlando for a management meeting, leaving me alone at the dock beside the haulout  yard at the Costa Rica Yacht Club in Puntarenas.  I sat under the watchful eye of the guard tower, taking the shuttle ashore every day or so to check email and sip a quiet coke.  Although the Bixlers left the boat in good shape, there were things that needed doing to prepare Emma Jo for the next long haul, putting things away, slapping on a coat or two of varnish, and visiting the SuperMega down the road for provisions.  We paid up, and cruised out of the Costa Rica Yacht Club at a decent 9:45 a.m., headed for the Tortuga islands.  Definitely needed an escort out from behind the peninsula, as there were uncharted wrecks and a shifting mud and shoal bottom.  Not the prettiest cruise we've done yet...nor the most scenic berthing.  We were plagued with a daily shower of ash from the burning cane fields nearby.

March 10
Islas Tortugas, Costa Rica

Grabbed a mooring buoy off the park, and enjoyed a lovely overnight.  Other than the fact that the generator started acting weird just around dinner time, it couldn’t have been better.  This Westerbeast is a pain in the butt.  It started surging, and when we added load to it, it just gave up and died.  We were able to cobble together a dinner, and suppressed many curses to try to keep lighthearted about it.  As luck would have it, when darkness fell, we were surrounded by thousands of fish, just hovering in the ring of light cast by the anchor light.  We could see phosphorescence in the outflow from the generator, and as the fish moved, when their fins broke the surface, it looked like hundreds of smoke rings blooming on the water around us.  We also took a turn on the foredeck, lying against the Portuguese bridge and looking at the milky way and trying to identify constellations and spot satellites.  After a time, we just experienced being grateful for the wonderful life Emma Jo has helped us to live.

This morning, while Ole struggled with the generator, the troops landed in the form of two huge catamarans who nosed up to the beach and disgorged dozens of tourists.  Judging by the pallor of most, we figured them for cruise ship passengers.  Unfortunately the mooring buoy we had chosen yesterday belonged to one of the catamarans, so we were booted off and chose to anchor a little further out, which was just as well.  Lowering the dinghy, we explored snorkeling spots, but found the current just a bit too strong to deal with.  Lots of fish…parrot fish, angels, seargeant majors, and baby somethings grey with one bright yellow spot.  We opted to move away from the current toward the beach, where Ole spotted a ray with a 3-foot wingspan; I spotted the march of the hermit crabs on the beach.  It was so odd, strolling along the gravel beach, feeling as if I were being watched…then noticing the beach moving, as hundreds of tiny hermits stumbled their way toward the waterline.  Back aboard Emma Jo, deck showers done and clothing rinsed off, we noticed a turtle about 50 feet off our stern craning his neck for a look at us.  How wonderful to see – a Jacques Cousteau moment.  Today was how cruising is supposed to be…work a little, play a little, enjoy the sunset.

March 24, 2010|
Bahia Santa Elena, Costa Rica

Two weeks later, and we’re still in Costa Rica.  We’re in just about the northernmost protected anchorage, just an hour and a half run to Nicaraguan waters, nailed down by the winds.

From Islas Tortugas two weeks ago, we did a short run to Bahia Ballena for a couple of nights.  There isn’t much there, just a small village with a wicked (for us) surf landing, and a community pier where the fishing boats tie up.  The tide range is a pretty wide 9 feet (from our Florida and Caribbean experience of inches), and tying up the dinghy required setting a stern anchor to prevent being sucked under the concrete pier during the incoming tide.  The pier was worn, slimy with marine growth and pelican poo, but the fishermen were friendly.  We managed to score a kilo of fresh shrimp right off a shrimper who sold to the fishermen at the pier, and enjoyed peel ‘n eats and a beautiful salad. 

Fishing Pier, Ballena Bay

Our lonely little dinghy secured against the tide (center)

The water wasn’t the clearest, but we installed a new zinc under the swimstep, and had a few cooling dips when the heat overtook us.  A highlight of our stay in Bahia Ballena was the chance to watch Holland America’s Maasdam pass by on March 12 on its way to Huatulco, and contact them on the radio to relay a greeting to the DeFever Cruisers Association group onboard.  We don’t know if they saw us or not, but it allowed us an excuse to raise a glass in their honor.

On March 13, we hoisted anchor about 11:00 pm for the 116-mile, 16-hour run to Bahia Culebra.  We had a beautiful run with next to no wind and long slow swells of 3-5 feet.  When we arrived on the 14^th, there was quite a stiff breeze blowing out from the east, so we tucked into a little bay on the northwest side, and protected by a little point, enjoyed a quiet two days punctuated by a couple of troops of howler monkeys calling back and forth.  What struck us the most about this bay was how dry the landscape is.  After two years in the wettest part of Panama, it was odd to see California-like hills of golden color, dry trees, with very little in the way of green except right along the shore.

On March 17, we moved over to the head of the bay to anchor off the new Marina Papagayo, to run in and check email.  The marina is beautiful – state of the art slips, electricity, uniformed staff, shops, bar and restaurant, and stunning internet facilities inside an air conditioned lobby.  We had planned to stay for lunch, but after just 90 minutes the wind kicked up, raising whitecaps between us and Emma Jo, so we opted to run back and spare the computer more spray than it could take.  We sat there overnight, watching wind gusting to 25 knots, and thought about moving the next morning to where we could get some lee.  The annoying thing about the wind, after about 12 hours of it, was realizing how dry it was – coming right out of the east, off the parched hills.  Reminded us of the Santa Anas in Southern California – and the Foehn in Germany (during which murderers receive lighter sentences on account of being driven mad by the winds – just sayin’).  On the 18^th, after Ole ran ashore to check emails at the marina, we opted to move to the south side of the bay and look for some lee.

Our first choice was crowded with a resort and wave runners, so we rounded a point and ended up in a wide bay called Playa Panama, mistakenly choosing the southwest corner for an anchorage.  We ran ashore in the dinghy to one of the cutest little beach bars we’ve found so far – the Playa Panama Beach Club, to check emails and make a few Skype calls.  When we returned to Emma Jo, there came the wind again, and in the evening we opted to move back to the southeast corner, where we got some lee.  When the wind blows 20-25, it makes jumping off the stern a bit chancy for a swim.  We’d hate to end up in Hawaii.

Panama Bay Beach Club

Jan connecting with the world at the Panama Bay Beach Club

On the 19^th, we left Bahia Culebra to pursue checkout formalities with the Port Captain in Playa del Coco.  I had to dinghy Ole ashore with the boat papers, and as I dropped him off into a 3-4 foot surf, the wind kicked up, and I had to battle 20-25 knots alone in the dinghy, find the boat, get aboard, and tie up by myself.  I did fine, but being alone for 4 hours while Emma Jo was buffeted around in a crowded anchorage was not my idea of a great time.  I set the anchor alarm and watched the anemometer – couldn’t bear to be in the salon listening to the wind howl through the screens.  Ole had to go from the Port Captain to the Bank and Immigration, then take a taxi to Liberia (about 30 minutes away) to Customs at the airport.  Once we got him back aboard, dried out, and fed, we picked up the anchor and moved back to Playa Panama to wait for calmer conditions to turn north.

On the 20^th, we picked up anchor early, hoping to get a head start on the wind, which seems to pick up any time between 7:30 and 9:30 a.m.  Heading north, we needed to round the last cape in Costa Rica – Cabo Santa Elena, to find a protected bay on its north side.  We had a fine enough ride until we reached the extreme west end of the cape, turned north, then east, took a look at the army of whitecaps marching toward us, then changed our mind, anchoring off a little place called Key Point, behind the Islas Murcielagos (Bat Islands) back on the south side of the cape.  The water was clean and clear, and the wind continued to blow 20-25, so we sat.  At dinner, we decided that if Ole woke up at 4:00 a.m. and it was calm, we’d just get up and round the cape before the wind woke up, which we did.  We arrived in Bahia Santa Elena, a beautiful, almost landlocked bay, to find one sailboat leaving, two at anchor, and two local fishing boats enjoying the glassy surface of the bay.  A spotted dolphin played with us as we came in, crossing our bow wake and rolling over to look at us.  We figured on a night or two here to rest up before our 130 mile run northwest to Puesta del Sol in Nicaragua.

We ran over to introduce ourselves to the sailboaters – a nice couple, Danny and Paula on Paula Jean and a great family, Troy, Brady, and their three daughters on Seaparents.  We all got together and took an exploratory trip up the estuaries at the head of the bay, finding big green parrots, hearing oropendola, and the most amazing black-red crabs with neon yellow claws clicking over the exposed mangrove roots.  Pretty trip!

Paula Jean and Seaparents

Look for the bright yellow crab claws!

Wading bird convention

Mangrove view

King lizard

Last night Ole and I went on a “date.”  We had martinis as the sun went down, accompanied with the very last of Dale and Linda’s home-canned salmon.  After a brief radio confab about the weather, we changed clothes – Ole in clean shorts and a parrot shirt, me with mascara AND lipstick and a Mexican sundress, had a nice dinner with wine, then put on Neil Diamond and went dancing on the back deck while the wind howled around us.  Hey – you have to gather rosebuds while you can!  And if there’s no beach club in sight, we make our own.

And now it’s the 24^th of March.  For two straight days, the wind has just been howling through here, making dinghy excursions kind of wet and uncomfortable.  Ole set the wind alarm for 30 knots yesterday, and the beeping was so constant, he just turned the darned thing to 40.  The one thing good that has come of this experience is that we now trust our ground tackle and can sleep through 20 knots of wind while we’re on the hook.

March 26
Marina Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua

We finally found a window to leave windy Bahia Santa Elena early the morning of March 25, and scooted out of the bay crossing choppy seas to the Nicaraguan coast off of San Juan del Sur.  We found it much calmer to stay within a mile or two of the coast, and once we turned north, the wind and sea were behind us all the way to Marina Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua.  We left Bahia Santa Elena at 10:00 a.m. yesterday morning, with light and variable winds, to cut over across the gulf to San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua, and gradually make our way north.  We faced quite a strong head current, slowing our speed to 5.5 knots, and turning our 20-hour trip into a 22-1/2 hour trip, arriving here at a beautiful spot at 8:30 this morning.  The highlight of the passage was playing dodge-boat with all the fishermen off the Nicaraguan Banks, and Jan remembering that when you see somebody's red light, and you have a constant bearing, diminishing range, it's a good time to turn right, especially if it's a big tuna boat!

March 31
Marina Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua 
Pictures coming soon...

We arrived the morning of Friday, March 26 after a passage of nearly 140 miles and just a bit over 24 hours.  On our arrival, we were surprised to find we were the only cruisers at the dock.  Roberto, the marina owner, told us that while we were welcome, there would be limited use of the facilities because the President of Nicaragua had reserved the entire property for Easter week, and was scheduled to arrive on Monday.  We wiped the salt off the boat, took a dip in the (HOT!) swimming pool, and enjoyed a dinner out with the full attention of the staff – being the only customers raises some interesting concerns about financial viability of a spectacular place like this.  Unless the rate for chartering the entire property for a week pays off… 

Saturday afternoon there was a potential emotional and physical disaster – I ran out of cigarettes, the marina didn’t have any, and so we embarked on an adventure into the little village just outside the marina gates to hunt down any cigarettes that might be found in a village of maybe 200 people.   The walk was dry and dusty.  We passed small, simply constructed houses of cinderblock, wood, tarp, and woven leaves, during the late afternoon when the villagers were tidying up and preparing for evening.  Though the houses were small and poor, they were tidy, the gardens were full of shade and food plants, the animals were sleek and fat, the children were well mannered and clean, and everyone we passed wished us buenas tardes.  Women were busy drawing water from their wells, sprinkling down the gardens to keep the dust down, and preparing food.  Men were gathered talking and laughing in groups.  Our walk through the village drew nothing more than polite curiosity as we inquired from the folks we passed where we might buy cigarettes.  At a bus stop, we asked an old man, who pointed across the road to a house with an open air kitchen and a large extended family gathered around while grandma prepared the evening meal.  We felt a bit timid about walking right into the back garden kitchen, but the old toothless grandma bid us welcome and told us that yes, she could sell us cigarettes.   Then the negotiations started.  We had no Nicaraguan money, the marina couldn’t change a $20 bill, so there we were in this tiny village set in the early 1900s, trying to make a $5 purchase from a family that probably doesn’t see more than $5 in a week.  (Damned Gringoes.)  When we showed her the money, she expressed concern, and the whole family – grandma, daughters, children, all chimed in to help figure out how to save the sale with the money they had on hand.  One of the daughters, heavily pregnant, brought out a couple of chairs and asked us politely to sit while they discussed the problem.  At one point, one of the husbands was called – he was Mexican, and probably had some pesos, and if he could be persuaded to part with them, we could get change in Nicaraguan Cordobas and Mexican Pesos – but that deal fell through as he was reluctant to part with his pesos.  As the discussion progressed, a huge sleek pig ambled through the garden, hens and chicks and naked toddlers rolled around in the dust, and the family talked, argued and laughed, trying to figure out a solution.  Finally, someone suggested a visit to another “store” down the road, where the proprietor might be likely to exchange the $20 for Cordobas.  Grandma indicated I should give the $20 to her granddaughter who would return shortly with the change – I thought it might be a better idea to walk with her and protect my investment.  In retrospect, it would have been fine to trust her; after all, we were customers of Roberto, the patron at the marina, and to rip us off would not be in their best interest.  So as we walked, we chatted a little with the 13-year old Lal, who was the designated financial comptroller of the transaction.  Once the money had been exchanged over a fence with the “rich” store owner (we knew he was rich because he had a tile walkway and floor in his home), we walked back to Lal’s family, made the purchase, and everyone was happy.  I know, I know, smoking is a filthy, unhealthy habit.  But it led to an interesting adventure and some deep thoughts about what the nature of poverty really is.  We had run into some cruisers earlier in the month who talked about how miserably poor this village was, and how it moved them to want to come in and build everyone a modern house.  But our experience of the village was different.  We figure that maybe fewer than 1% of Americans see this kind of lifestyle close up and personal – and when we comparatively rich gringos see or hear reports of poverty on the news, we automatically apply our cultural and material standards, assuming, arrogantly, that the affected folks need what we have.  When we talked about it later, we agreed that yes, the people of this village could use a doctor, a dentist, or a clinic, perhaps some reliable water supply and maybe some improvements in electricity – but what they had seemed to work.  Roberto built a school for the village, there was work to be had, the children and animals seemed to be clean and healthy, and the garbage was minimal.  We will admit, though, that the contrast between the several-million-dollar marina and it’s neighboring village was a bit surreal. 

Sunday, March 28, we opted to walk to the Pacific side beach facility that belongs to the marina, a spectacularly-placed thatch-covered pavilion (called a palapa) paved with tile, shaded with woven palm and lattice, furnished with white wrought-iron tables and chairs, and graced with a freshly-painted blue infinity pool facing the miles-long expanse of beach.  The only complaints we had were that the sand was blisteringly hot to walk on and the surf at the beach made swimming out of the question.  So, rats, we had to sit in the shade and enjoy a fresh-water swimming pool, shade, and garden.  Life is brutal.  Since we expect the President to arrive at any moment by helicopter, we’re staying away from the marina facilities.

Surfer on the beach at Puesta del Sol

Pool Palapa at Puesta del Sol

Infinity Pool, Puesta del Sol

Tuesday, March 30, we joined up with John and Gayle, a couple on the boat Sirens Call from Suquamish (just over the hill from Poulsbo) and booked a van into the nearby town of Chinandega to do some shopping for fresh produce and meat.  This area of Nicaragua is the breadbasket of the country, and we passed fields and orchards and herds of cattle for the hour-long drive into a city of maybe 100,00 folks.  The city is a typical Central American city –noisy, full of traffic and strange driving habits, and irregular streets and sidewalks with open-air shops selling any- and everything.  Had to make a stop in the hardware district to find some parts for the watermaker and generator, spent a couple of hours in a beautiful large grocery store, then asked our driver, Indolfo, to recommend a nice restaurant for lunch, where we treated him.  On the drive back, he stopped at his house to introduce him to his family and show us how his wife and daughter were baking Easter pastries in a clay oven in the back yard.  When we got back, we shared cocktails on the flybridge, and noticed the marina and staff were still in a state of high alert, as the President hadn’t arrived yet. 

Stampede on the road to Chinandega

Indolfo and wife making Easter Pastries

Presidential Guard

Wednesday, March 31, we joined John and Gayle on Sirens Call for dinner and lots of conversation.  Their steel boat is a testament to craftsmanship.  John built it himself, starting in his back yard and finishing at Port Townsend to the point where he could launch and do the final touches underway.  Everything on the boat is hand-built:  from the aluminum railings, to the stabilizing gear and the watermaker.  We were entertained by the Easter Party thrown by the village at the shipyard on a nearby point, eliminating the need for any mood music over a delicious dinner of bacon cheeseburgers and salad.

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